


Stargazer

by lene14



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humour, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 17:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lene14/pseuds/lene14
Summary: It had been four years since the war started. Just over a year since the Battle of Hogwarts. And six months since she had seen her best friends.Hermione was so tired.She found her home in the stars but Draco was willing to do anything to bring her down.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	Stargazer

17th June, 1999

There was only so much pain one could take before they became broken. And Hermione Granger was at the edge. She had been balancing on the brink for the past six months. One push away from finally giving up and every day it seemed more and more tempting. To take her wand to her chest and use those Unforgivable words. Because no matter how hard she looked; no matter how hard she fought, she could not see an end to the pain she suffered. 

The cold was biting as she huddled against the wall for warmth. It was summer and although Hermione didn’t know the date, she assumed it was sometime in June. The sun had set about an hour ago and when she looked up, she saw a dark blue sky above the tops of the rooves. It wasn’t clear enough to see the stars tonight and Hermione sighed.

Counting stars and drawing constellations had become one of her most enjoyable hobbies these days on the street. She didn’t ask for much but the stars were all she had these days. 

The war had been raging on now for four years exactly. The wizarding world was in ruins. Or at least her wizarding world was. The Pureblood families, or those who graciously gave thanks to their Lord, were surely living in comfort. Perhaps even in luxury. 

Of course, Hermione’s blood had not afforded her such opportunities. One year ago, if she were offered those chances by the Lord’s Ministry, she would have spat at their feet. Now, she wasn’t so sure. 

Because Hermione was tired. She was exhausted. And she would do almost anything for food right now. 

Thoughts of such shameful betrayal circled in her mind on days like these. The days where she was hiding in alleyways, avoiding Death Eater patrols and drunken men. The days where she moved lethargically, like her bones were made of stone; stiff and heavy. Hermione knew that if a Death Eater caught her today, she wouldn’t even have the strength to lift her wand against them. 

The days where she missed her friends. Not knowing if most of them were dead or alive at this point.

So, she hid. In dark alleyways, moving every other day between Wizarding and Muggle London. She had better luck begging in Muggle London. She wasn’t a fugitive there and people pitied a girl on the streets no matter her blood. So, she was given coins. Not much but enough to buy something for a small meal. And though she did her best not to, she had become accustomed to stealing. Rummaging through bins and taking her food orders and running. Only when she had the energy would she attempt it. 

But Muggle London wouldn’t be safe for much longer. There were whispers on the streets that their Lord would be moving into the Muggle World soon. Imposing Wizarding rule upon the rest of the world. Hermione didn’t fear them being killed. At least not all of them. But she knew that they would become second-class citizens under Voldemort’s rule. Perhaps no more than slaves. That had already become the place of muggle-borns in the Wizarding World.

She shivered at the thought of the fate she had narrowly escaped for now. Hermione was one of the lucky ones. She had heard rumours about what Muggle-borns did to avoid immediate execution. Especially the girls. It made her sick to her stomach. Something like disgust and sadness mixed in the pit of her abdomen when she thought of what these girls had to do to survive. She didn’t judge them – she couldn’t. But she hated to think about it. Perhaps it was because Hermione didn’t know if she would do any different. She had to get back to Harry and Ron, if they were still alive. And she might’ve done anything to get that.

Hermione often struggled to sleep out on the streets. For the past six months her body had been in a permanent state of tension. She was constantly on edge waiting for the next fight. One that hadn’t arrived for six months. At least she could be thankful for that. She hadn’t had to raise her wand to another person in six months. She wondered if she was so out of practice now that she wouldn’t even be able to. 

A loud clap echoed down the alley and she flinched – trying to stifle a gasp in her palms which were cupped around her mouth anyway for warmth. She could hear loud, raucous laughter out on the street and she saw a Lumos lighted wand at the mouth of the narrow lane. She held her breath frozen, waiting to see if it would turn towards her but thankfully the wand carried on followed by a group of four men stumbling and shouting. 

Hermione breathed out slowly and tugged at one her curls – hard. It was a nervous habit she had picked up after their failure at the Battle of Hogwarts. She remembered the feeling of Greyback’s fist in her hair scratching at her scalp when the fighting had picked up again. And since then, the habit had been set – all her nerves and fears channelled into a rough tug at her hair. 

Another hour passed before Hermione started to feel her muscles relax slightly. She felt a wave of lethargy pass over her and the temptation to give in was high. But as always, she felt persistent fear pressing into the back of her mind. She knew that her sleep would be plagued with nightmares.  
Of Bellatrix. The Battle of Hogwarts. Greyback. The day Ron lashed out at her. They day she was separated from her best friends. The nights she spent shivering on the streets knowing feeling like each night could be her last. Like at moment a Death Eater could turn the corner and find her.  
It had been four years since the war started. Just over a year since the Battle of Hogwarts. And six months since she had seen her best friends.  
She was so tired.

*

Draco was late. He was never late. Especially not for the Dark Lord. But the clean up after yesterday’s raid had been tedious. It took hours – meticulously searching the safe house for clues about the Order’s whereabouts and deconstructing the layers of hexes on the different rooms of the house. He had to give them credit – the Order had really upped their game recently. But the concentration of yesterday’s raid had left him exhausted. And he slept in late. 

Draco was steady on his feet when he apparated to the doors of Malfoy Manor. A slight mercy that he was able to apparate directly to the door – something that was allowed by the blood wards. He slipped past the lower rank Death Eaters who were milling about his parlour, looking unsure and overwhelmingly bored. He sneered at them as he passed but secretly hoped he didn’t look ridiculous with the bags under eyes and his well slept in hair which he barely been able to brush this morning. 

The Malfoy heir was not a fool. He knew that his recent promotions would not be enough to shield him from basic orders. The Dark Lord did not tolerate those who were late.  
So, Draco set his expression as he reached the wide double-doors of the meeting hall. He took a brief second to occlude – a skill that had become second nature at this point. He focused on becoming the picture of poise as he twisted the handle of the door and stepped into the room, head bowed. 

The hall was filled with a dozen other Death Eaters – some of whom he knew would be his friends. They were bent at the knee and staring low just as Draco had positioned himself moments prior. The Dark Lord was in the centre of the room standing above his subjects.

Draco would never say it allowed of course but in his mind, he had often likened the rule of the Dark Lord to that of past Muggle Kings and Queens. Ones that had their subjects bow and lower their gaze.

Immediately Draco thrusted apologetic thoughts and feelings to the front of his mind as the Dark Lord turned sharply towards him and was instantly pressing into his mind. Draco knew better than to resist at this point – but Merlin did it hurt. The Dark Lord’s legilimency echoed his rule – push and press and take and show no mercy. Draco had taken to just praying that his occlumency was strong enough to withhold his real thoughts.

Draco felt a release of pressure; evidently, the Dark Lord was satisfied with whatever he saw. 

Without speaking, Draco fell into line with the other Death Eaters. He spared a tentative glance beside him and saw that it was Pansy on his left. She felt his gaze but did not acknowledge it, knowing the Dark Lord’s attention had not fully lifted from Draco.

“Draco,” he hummed, “step forward.”

There it was.

His voice was calm but Draco could hear the implicit demand. He stepped forward and fell to his knee.

“You’re late.”

“Yes, my Lord,” his voice shook and he was ashamed that this weak pathetic shivering fool was not an act. He was sacred. He always was – and how could he not be.

“I – I’m sorry, my Lord. My folly should not go unpunished.”

It was always better this way. If he didn’t resist it.

The grey monster in front of him smiled coldly – cruelly.

And almost immediately he felt it.

“Crucio.”

*

The pain had been immense. Draco groaned from the plush black sofa he had been left on after Pansy had received permission from the Dark Lord to take Draco out following his torture.

Eight minutes. For every minute he was late. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, burying his face deeply into a cushion that Pansy had shoved at him seconds prior. She had a wand to his back and was muttering healing charms under her breath, removing whatever dark magic had naturally latched itself onto Draco during the torture.

Sure enough, as he raised his head, he could see the wisps of dark grey energy floating into the air around them. Dark magic had a habit of seeping into Draco’s bones – which was it hurt so much to remove it.

Five minutes later and Pansy had finished. Draco hadn’t risen from his position on the sofa yet and was breathing raggedly and heavily as he felt the aches ease slightly to usual Crucio level of pain. Pansy slotted herself onto the corner of the velvet material and was stroking his back gently now. 

“You’re so stupid, you know?” she said, her hardened words a stark contrast to her soft touch. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly at that, “I know.”

They sat in peace for about 10 more minutes before she spoke again.

“Your mother wants you to stay the night.”

“I can do that,” he mumbled back.

“You should’ve seen her in here, fretting over her precious boy,” she spoke in a mocking tone.

“Would it kill you to be a little more sympathetic?” he pushed himself up this time, noticing for the first time he didn’t have a shirt on. Pansy’s eyes looked on appreciatively. He just scoffed in response, “Pans, I’ve just been tortured and you’re checking me out right now?”

“Oh boo-hoo you, big-boy Death Eater got a stupid punishment for making a stupid mistake. You’re alive, aren’t you?” 

Yep, that was Pansy.

“No comment on the second part though?” he smirked.

“No need for me to feed your ego anymore,” she huffed, “That’s your wife’s job.”

“Aw, Pans,” he teased, “You just jealous you didn’t get there first?”

“Oh please,” she grinned back deviously, “You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

She was right on that account.

They laughed between themselves and Draco took a moment to ease himself backwards, sinking into the soft material behind him with a sigh.  
“What was the meeting about anyway?” he changed the subject.

“It was about the raid last night,” she replied, “For all the sleep it apparently stole for you, some pretty big discoveries were made.”  
He looked on expectantly.

“Letters about a safe house in Wales. Not far off the border it seems but not much more than that,” she finished.

Draco found it in himself to grin, “And just like that I’m back in his good books.”

Pansy snorted, “I wouldn’t be so sure. Rosier was keen to take as much credit as he could get away with. Don’t worry – me, Theo and Blaise vouched for you as much as we could.”

“Cunt.”

“Yep,” she replied brightly.

He took a moment to study his friend. 

“You’ve been unusually happy lately. Something go right for once?” 

Pansy just rolled her dark eyes, “Can’t a girl smile in your presence?” 

But he caught her bluff – and blush. He wouldn’t call her out on it. Not today at least. 

“I should probably owl Astoria if I’m staying with mother tonight. She worries about me when I called out here. She thinks I’ll turn up dead.”

“She’s not wrong, Draco. We’re playing a dangerous game here.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. 

He did. Everyday he and his friends ran the risk of being caught for their actions. And everyday Draco felt guilt for bringing them in in the first place.

“I hope you’re practising your occlumency.”

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a full length story. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated :)


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